Page 67 of Honest With You

Something feels off about my body and I’m starting to get worried. Nothing I normally do when my anxiety gets bad is helping. I just hope it’s nothing serious. When my mom got cancer, in the back of my mind there was always fear about possibly getting it.

Swiping the face towel, I turn off the faucet and dry my face. I check the time on my thermostat and wince when I realize it’s already 5 in the morning, which means I barely got an hour of sleep before my stomach turned and I had to rush into my bathroom.

I toss the towel in the hamper on my way back to bed and pause when my eyes land on the necklace hanging on my jewelry stand. It’s the one Jesse got me for my birthday. A now familiar pain stabs me in the chest and another bout of nausea threatens. I trudge to my bed, curling around my favorite cooling pillow to try and ease myself out of it.

Once the waves of nausea end, I grab my phone from under my pillow and do the same thing I do every night when insomnia strikes.

I reread Jesse’s multitude of texts from the past week. I don’t bother listening to the voicemails, knowing that’s a form of torture I would never subject myself to. It’s bad enough reading the messages he sent. I would not be able to handle listening to his voice without breaking down. Especially knowing now how easy it is for him to lie to me. I don’t doubt Jesse’s feelings for me, I really don’t, just like I don’t regret falling for him. At least, not anymore. But it still doesn’t erase the fact that he kept things from me. Lied to me.

I didn’t mean to tell him that I didn’t need him but when he stood there, stuttering excuse after excuse, I snapped.

I knew he was going to break my heart from the start. I just didn’t realize he was going to demolish it this way.

My whole life, I’ve always been sandwiched between the perfect older brother and little sister. Everyone we knew always complimented Stephen’s academic achievements and Reese’s ability to capture a room, whether it's performing for family members or her looks that she inherited from mom. Then my mom died, and suddenly I was left trying to hold the both of them together, with a permanent smile on my face.

So when Jesse came into the picture, I felt like someone was finally seeing me for the first time. He made me feel like he saw my value and my worth.

Now, it made me wonder if he was simply using me as a means to, I don’t know, pass the time here before he could be with her. Or maybe, in some sick way, he wanted to reenact some fantasy he had, back when we had first kissed. Until he ended up falling for me.

But at the end of the day, it washerthat he rushed to, on the weekend of my birthday.

I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that just because he’s trying to win me back, it means he wants to be with me. Now that I know the truth, I know it’s simply because he’s back in town and she’s not.

No matter how much it hurts right now, I will get through this. I will fight hard against my insecurities to rise above all this. I have no desire to wallow in my heartache but it doesn’t mean that I can’t allow myself moments of self pity when I’m in the safety of my room.

I’m sifting through my locker to find the books I’m going to need to get through next week’s off-site lessons, when the smell of someone’s aftershave causes my stomach to turn and the urge to throw up overcomes me. I slam my locker shut, drop my bag on the floor without thinking and make a mad dash across the hall to the nearest bathroom. I hear someone yell my name behind me, but my only goal right now is to not throw up on my feet. I rush to the nearest stall, drop to my knees and hurl today’s lunch, barely registering someone standing behind me, holding my hair back.

My neck is sweaty from the exertion and my hands feel clammy as I sit back on my heels, trying to draw air back into my lungs. I’m lightheaded and a rush of vertigo hits me. I feel tears pool in my eyes and I struggle to lift my head.

I had forgotten that someone had rushed to follow me into the stall until I feel my hair hit the back of my neck and that same someone tries to pull me up. My moment of disassociation ends and my vision starts to clear

“Ava, are you okay?” Vanessa comes into my line of vision and I feel her hands curl around my arms, holding me steady. Her forehead is creased, her worry clear in the way she’s searching my face and dabbing at the sweat on my forehead. I see my backpack in her arms that I had evidently dropped in my haste to get to the bathroom.

I shake my head, scared that if I open my mouth to speak, I might end up puking my guts out again. Then I have to shut my eyes as another wave of vertigo and nausea hits me and I sway.

I hear Vanessa’s soft gasp, followed by rustling.

“Hello? This is Vanessa. I’m calling for Ava. I’m bringing her out to the side door by the cafeteria right now, can you help me? She’s not feeling well.”

She’s calling my security to come get me.

I grab her arm and she whispers, “I know. Can you at least make it down the hall? Most of the school is out at the field for the game, so we should be able to make a quick exit if we cut through the cafeteria.”

I squeeze her arm in response, scared to move my head in a nod, and she takes that as a yes as she helps me get on my feet. She keeps her head close to mine, pretending she’s whispering something in my ear. I keep my head down, pretending to listen to her when in reality, I’m fighting wave after wave of nausea as we slowly make our way into the empty cafeteria and finally to the side door to meet my security.

Tito Evan, who has been working for my family for years, meets us and scoops me into his arms.

“Miss Ava, are you alright?” His thick Filipino accent is both familiar and reassuring as I feel myself go limp in his arms.

“No, she’s not. I’ve sent Yaya Ella a text and she called the family doctor. So you need to take her straight to the house.”

I grasp Vanessa’s wrist when she pulls back from brushing hair off my face. She takes the hint and follows wordlessly into the SUV.

Ava ignored me for the few days she would show up at school. Every time I attempted to approach her, I was met with barely a glance, followed by either Vanessa or Ryder pulling her away.

The latter making me grind my teeth in an effort to stop myself from telling him to get his hands off my girl because I can't do that. She isn’t my girl anymore.

The thought sours my stomach and makes me want to smash my guitar against the wall. I’m not violent, so I could never act on it. All I can do is stew in my misery, sit with this damn searing pain in my chest and attempt to write as many songs as I can to pass the time. Except… I can’t do that either.

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